Stains
by Rosajean
Summary: Just a very short piece that may be the start of an actual story. A drunken woman stumbles across a room...
1. Chapter 1

_Just the start of something that I'll probably (eventually?) continue…_

The red wine bottle fell to the floor as it slipped from the hand of a disheveled woman that was too far gone to even notice the red stain quickly forming on the beige carpet as the rest of the bottle's contents spilled forth. She heaved herself down upon the leather couch, pulling a dark blue throw pillow over her head to block out the world that she futilely tried to drink away. It was just one more night in a long line of nights that ended this way. Who knew six months ago that this was what she would become? A functioning drunk, much the same as her father had been. Funny, that. She'd spent the majority of her years trying not to be exactly what she'd become. In rare moments of sobriety she'd wonder what it was that had sent her father over the edge, wonder if it was the same sort of broken heart that had sent her in the same direction. But what does it matter? She would never find out now anyways. It was 10 years too late to ask that question. And even if she'd had the driving curiosity to ask it back then, she doubted her father would've had the presence of mind long enough to actually answer it. No, it was better not to know anyways.

It didn't take long after making contact with the couch before she was passed out, so completely oblivious to the world around her that she never even noticed the man sitting in an armchair by the fireplace watching her stumble her way across the room and onto the sofa.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape considered himself extraordinarily talented in self-restraint considering that he wanted nothing more than to dump a large bucket of ice cold water over Granger's head, waking her from her drunken stupor. "Foolish, foolish girl!" he muttered to himself, while flicking his wand to remove the spilled wine from her carpet. The war may be over, but that was no reason to let down your vigilance!

He'd heard rumors, of course, about how she'd been sacked from her high-profile ministry job when she'd complained too loudly about the treatment of house elves, about how she'd found out about the Weasley boy's cheating through a vicious article by Rita Skeeter in the Daily Prophet, and about her subsequent fall from grace in the public eye as she'd taken up drowning her sorrows on a regular basis at the Leaky Cauldron. Yes, he'd heard the rumors, alright. But he hadn't really believed _most_ of them – he'd seen the article in the Prophet himself, after all – until he'd seen for himself the mess that the silly, little, know-it-all chit had become.

He'd come to entreat her into a joint business adventure, and instead he was stuck playing nursemaid, assuring that she didn't end up with alcohol poisoning from her own stupidity. With a wave of his wand, he levitated her off the couch and down the hall into the nearest bedroom he could find, which turned out to be the master bedroom anyways. Not bothering with the niceties of pulling back the blankets, he dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed and rolled his eyes when she didn't even stir.

He abruptly turned and exited the room, slamming the door for effect on the way out and situated himself in the guest room across the hall for the night. It was time for this foolishness to end. He'd be damned if he let his future business partner become a stumbling drunkard. First thing tomorrow, he'd put a stop to this.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione pulled a pillow over her head to block out the sunlight filtering into her room and blindly reached for the nightstand drawer beside her bed. She pulled it open with a practiced air of having done the same thing too many mornings in a row recently, but the ritual stopped there when she felt the horribly, inexplicably empty drawer. She could have sworn she'd restocked on Hangover Remedy just yesterday. Reluctantly, she pulled the pillow away from her face and peeked open her eyes just the slightest bit, flinching when the little sliver of light increased the pounding in her head tenfold. She pushed herself into a sitting position, valiantly staving off the nausea that accompanied such a move, and pulled the drawer open more completely. But her hands had not lied – the drawer was completely empty!

"Looking for this?" A snide voice spoke from the doorway, startling Hermione so violently she nearly banged her head on the headboard of her bed.

Wondering if a hangover could somehow bring on hallucinations, she stared dumbly back at the man standing in her apartment, holding the very much coveted bottle that would take away her splitting headache.

She couldn't even muster up the energy to be pissed off, so completely flabbergasted by his presence in her room she was.


	4. Chapter 4

He turned and left the room, still holding that ever-so-precious bottle that she desperately needed this very moment. Reluctantly, she swung her feet off the bed and pushed herself up, eyes squinting against the light that threatened to rip her psyche apart. Since when had it become so bright in her room? She specifically remembered buying heavy black curtains that blocked out the sunlight so effectively it was like living underground. And of course, it was very conducive to someone who had spent more than a few days in her cups recently. But then again, what better things did she have to do now that her life was virtually over?

She glanced over to the wretched windows and noted that the curtains had been pulled clean open. Her sluggish brain took a few extra seconds to come to the conclusion that for some inexplicable reason Severus Snape must have been in her apartment for a while if he'd had the time to remove her bedside supply of relief and pull open her curtains.

As she followed him down the hall towards the kitchen, her gaze flitted towards the living room. She distinctly remembered collapsing on the couch last night and had fully expected to wake up in that same position in the morning (unless she incidentally rolled onto the floor, of course – it's been known to happen). With the puzzling realization that Snape had possibly been in her apartment for hours, she walked into the kitchen to find him standing by the sink, waiting for her with a smirk on his face.

Watching her watching him, he quickly upended the entire bottle of Hangover Remedy into the sink. For a moment he thought she might collapse into a fit of tears as she watched the translucent blue liquid drain from the bottle, but just as quickly her temper surfaced and took over.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? AND WHY THE HELL ARE YOU IN MY APARTMENT?" She yelled at him, and immediately regretted it, both hands going to her head to ward off the intense pressure that had been amplified with her yelling.


	5. Chapter 5

Snape's lips twitched in amusement, the sadistic side of him thoroughly enjoying her present discomfort. And what better way to cure her of this foolishness than to make her feel the full effects of it?

"To answer your first question," he drawled, his voice pitched just a bit louder than normal to encourage even more suffering on her part, "I'm putting an end to this ridiculous pity party you've got going on. And as for the second, if you weren't on such a bender last night, too bladdered to even remember your wards, I wouldn't be here now, would I?"

He watched as her mouth gaped open like a fish, apparently at a loss for a response to someone calling her out on her bullshit. "I'm not… I mean… just because… that still doesn't…" She lapsed into silence, unable to come up with any kind of response. It's not like she didn't know she'd been wasted last night – or hell, every night for the last three months – but she didn't exactly expect anyone, least of all _him_, to call her out on that. "What the hell do you care anyways?" She finally retorted, arms crossed defensively as she glared at him from across the kitchen.

"I don't do business with drunkards." He stated simply, matching her stance perfectly.

"Business?" She repeated stupidly.

He crossed the room swiftly, pulling a slip of paper out of a pocket and handing it to her. "2 o'clock. Be there." He headed for the front door, and stopped just before stepping out. "And Miss Granger," he stated, turning to ensure she was listening, "I'm not above tracking you down and dragging you there, but it'd save us both some time if you'd just bloody well show up. Sober." With that he left, slamming the door behind him for extra effect. He was sure she would show up, the annoying chit he remembered from Hogwarts couldn't bear to leave a mystery unsolved. The question was whether she would agree to his plan.

Hermione scowled at the door before turning her attention to the paper in her hands. The only thing written on it was an address in an area not far outside of London – one she'd never been to though which unfortunately meant she wouldn't be able to just Apparate there. What a pain in the arse!

She spent the next few minutes cursing the dratted old bat as she went through her stores looking for the next best thing to a Hangover Remedy. She ended up settling on a PepperUp Potion and a couple Excedrin to get the job done, smirking in satisfaction as she found a way around the bastard's cruel intentions of leaving her unbearably hung over for the day.

**A/N: I know that most readers would prefer longer chapters, and normally I comply, but for some reason it's not working out that way with this story. I don't want to force it out b/c I find that the quality of writing takes a nosedive when I try to force more than I really have to share. So, yeah, it'll probably continue with these shortened chapters – at least for a while – but I shall endeavor to make up for it by updating more often. Reviews are, of course, very appreciated!**


	6. Chapter 6

At precisely two o'clock Hermione stepped out of a taxi in front of a desolate building that stood alone in the middle of an empty field, wondering if Snape was pulling her chain or actually intended for her to step into the building that would surely be chock full of cancer-causing asbestos and roaches to boot. The taxi driver shot her a curious look, before inquiring if he should wait for her. She waved him off carelessly and watched as he drove off before heading for the aged, wooden front door. It swung open before her to reveal Snape standing in the doorway.

"You're late." He stated before turning away and walking back inside.

She hurried to catch up with him. "Actually, I'm not. And if I were, it wouldn't be my fault since _somebody_ required I meet him at an address I couldn't very well Apparate to and had to waste time finding a shady taxi driver who even knew the address." She stepped inside the building, only to come to a complete halt at the state of the inside. Much different to the dilapidated outside appearance, the inside of the building was perfectly pristine – no asbestos or roaches in sight.

Her stop went unnoticed as Snape continued down the hall and she hurried to catch up with him, mentally shaking herself out of her surprise. One would think that after spending more than a decade in the wizarding world she would stop being surprised at the things that can be accomplished by magic.

"Where am I?" She inquired as she followed him down a long hall, doors lining both sides.

"That depends." Snape replied.

"On what?"

"You." The word carried a tone of finality and she knew she wouldn't get anything else out of him until they got to wherever it was that he was leading her.

At the very end of the hall, he opened a white door on the right and waited for her to step through before following her in. The room was a large office, an ornate desk the main focus with a high backed chair behind it; in front were two leather chairs. Ceiling high windows behind the desk illuminated the entire room with sunlight, and the other walls were covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves, completely filled with books, ingredients and vials of potions. But what truly caught her attention was the very familiar-looking phoenix resting on a bird perch next to Snape's desk.

She stared in surprise until the sound of a throat being cleared regained her attention and she moved herself to the seat Snape was gesturing her to. A hundred questions came to mind and she barely knew where to start with this man before her.

He stared at her for a long moment, watching her eyes flick back and forth between him and the bird, wondering if her brilliant mind had already pieced everything together. But when no questions or assumptions were forthcoming from the girl, he opened a desk drawer to the left of him, pulled out a black binder, and pushed it across the desk to her.

She gave him a curious glance before opening it to find it contained a business plan for a potions research facility. It took her a full 20 minutes to read through everything, and Snape sat patiently as she went through the entire binder thoroughly, finally arriving at the last page: a piece of parchment containing a letter with the official Ministry of Magic stamp on it. It read as follows:

_Dear Mr. Snape,_

_We thank you for your application for a business license to open a potions research facility. Unfortunately, as it stands, the applicant must be in good public standing with the Ministry of Magic and the Wizarding community as a whole. As you regrettably do not meet the requirements, we cannot approve your application. If you intend to reapply, there is a mandatory six-month waiting period, or two-months if reapplying with a business partner who meets the required qualifications._

_Sincerely,  
>Miranda Botswart<br>Department of Magical Enterprises  
>Ministry of Magic <em>

Once she'd read through all the paperwork, she stared at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face, positive that he couldn't possibly be implying what he seemed to be implying with this binder full of paperwork.

"Why me?"

"Because you left me on the floor to die. You owe me."

His sneer challenged her to argue, but he knew she wouldn't. Her Gryffindor sense of honor and guilt wouldn't allow her to prevaricate and what kind of Slytherin would he be if he didn't take advantage of that fact?


	7. Chapter 7

**Assuming anyone is still reading this, I apologize for the extended, unintentional hiatus. Hopefully writing this chapter will have served as a warm up for me to get back into the writing mode. **

Hermione bit back the immediate refusal that begged release, and took a moment to ponder the proposal. Severus Snape was an unpleasant man, that at least was common knowledge. Even after gaining his freedom from both Voldemort and Dumbledore, he was known to all as a bitter, disagreeable recluse. Accepting his offer would mean spending every day for the foreseeable future in his hostile presence. On the other hand, considering the bridges she'd burned with the ministry and consequently most upstanding businesses of the wizarding community, this may be her only chance to reintegrate herself into the wizarding public as a respectable, contributing member of society. Well, it isn't as though she wasn't used to dealing with his deplorable attitude anyways. Surely six years of practice in her adolescence would make it easier for her now.

"Alright, let's say I agree. What would be required of me, and what would be my share?" She questioned him tentatively.

Snape gave her a cold, calculating look before opening a desk drawer beside him and pulling out a scroll. He handed over the contract and shrewdly watched to see if she would read the entirety of the contract or merely skim it and sign at the bottom like any other dunderhead would do. But Hermione was no fool and took the time to read every paragraph and every foot note. It didn't take long for her to come across the unusual condition he'd stipulated right in the middle of the contract, fixed between paragraphs full of legal jargon.

"You can't be serious! There's no way I'm agreeing to this! Are you barking mad?"

"All conditions set forth in the contract are completely reasonable and manageable, and as such are non-negotiable."

"You want me to swear off drinking? Forever? Under penalty of losing my employment AND my stake in the company to you? AND YOU THINK THAT'S REASONABLE?! What's more, you want me to attend AA meetings like some tosspot who can't control herself? Not doing it! That is so not happening. Have you lost your bloody freaking mind?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He knew she would be put off by the extra stipulations he'd added as an addendum to the contract, but honestly, he didn't remember Miss Granger having such a shrill voice in her teenage years. Perhaps his memory was faulty but good heavens could she screech. He was already beginning to regret this business proposition, but there was no other way for him to get a business license. He'd already thought through all the potential candidates who would meet the ministry's qualifications and who he'd willingly work with and the short list was, well, a VERY short list. And frankly, he didn't think he could stand taking on the pompous Draco Malfoy as a business partner. He would no doubt attempt to assume control and push Snape out of the business the moment it had attained success, and in the meantime Snape would be driven mad with the urge to hex his bollocks off. No, best to stick with the annoying know-it-all, assuming he could get her to agree to the contract, that is.


End file.
